Bad mummy that I am, while we were sitting out on the lawn with Bailey this afternoon (or rather yesterday afternoon since it’s past midnight now), I let Ronan down on the grass where he proceeded to roll into a swarm of ants.
After a cool oatmeal bath that he did not enjoy at all, a dose of tylenol and a slathering of benadryl over the many bites on his arms, legs and even the back of his head, he curled up sleeping peacefully and oblivious to how awful I was feeling. He didn’t act bothered by it, but it had to have hurt and been uncomfortable. I know how it feels, especially since the blighters got in a few nips on me, too.
He woke up at a silly early hour before and while I’d usually get him back to sleep, I had to nurse him and give him cuddles until he was ready to fall asleep again because I just didn’t know if he woke because he was hurting or uncomfortable, or if it was just one of those random wakings that babies are wont to do. I checked his arms while he was feeding and couldn’t even see any of the bites, but why risk it?
As much as I don’t want my baby boy to grow up too fast, I can’t wait until he’s able to communicate with me, especially if it’s to let me know when he’s hurting.
Anyway, so here I am wide awake after only a half hour of sleep. Joy.